Dark Chronicles 4: Graveyard Hauntings
by SweetNocturnalBliss
Summary: Somethings in the graveyard other than the dead bodies that lie beneath the surface, Something is graverobbing and killing people, and Something is about to meet Dean and Sam. Sequel to It Comes After Dark.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own, but I do fantasize.

AN: Okay all here's the next story. It's all Dean and Sam with mentions of Dorian, though she's not actually in the story. There are SPOILERS through Asylum. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1

Anna kneeled beside his grave, tears slowly dripping from her face. The wind blew, adding to the chill that was already passing through her body. The night was beautiful. The moon was bright and full and stars shown across the cloudless sky. Yet none of it's beauty comforted her.

Anna laid the dozen roses over the fresh dirt. The funeral had been earlier that day, but she wouldn't disgrace his memory by showing up when his family was grieving. She had no place at his funeral, no justification for being there. It would only have added to the family's grief and heartache. Anna had already caused them enough of that.

Now it was dark and no one else was around. She was alone in the graveyard with him. It was Anna and the man she had killed. It hadn't been on purpose, but she had killed him just the same. He was dead, and the weight of that burden would forever be on her shoulders. Fresh guilt flooded inside of her as she stared at the words on the tombstone.

Beloved Son

Justin Prescott

1985-2005

He had only been twenty years old. Anna hadn't known that. He was just a boy, a boy who's life she had ended prematurely. She brought a hand to the bandage on her head, reliving the accident in her memory.

It had been a couple of days ago. It was storming on her way home from work. The traffic lights had been struck so they were flashing red. Anna knew to treat it as a four way stop sign, so she pulled up to the light. Stopped, looked both ways, and pulled out, right into Justin Prescott.

Anna hadn't seen him coming. He was making a turn that crossed in front of her. She tried to slam on her breaks, but it was too late. Justin hadn't been wearing his seatbelt and the poor boy flew out of the windshield, dying on impact with the pavement.

"I'm sorry," She whispered, quietly sobbing. "I never saw you coming."

Anna knew that no amount of apologies or penance would make up for taking his life. They had said it was an accident, a tragic mishap in the middle of a raging storm, but Anna knew that it was her fault that Justin was dead. She should have looked more carefully, taken off more slowly. There were a million things that flashed through her mind that she could have done differently, but only one thing she had done had cost this young man his life.

Her flashlight began to flicker. "Oh come on," She snapped angrily. With everything else she was dealing with right now, she didn't need for the flashlight to go bad on her. Frustrated, she wiped away the tears and began shaking the malfunctioning item. It spurted a small amount of light, but quickly went out again.

A moan sounded behind her. Her heart skipped a beat and she jumped to her feet, dropping the flashlight. "Who's there?" She looked out into the endless void of night, trying to seek out the owner of the voice. Her pulse was quick and her breath even quicker. Fear rose and she hung onto her purse as though it were a life line.

Anna blinked her eyes trying to better her night vision. Her fear amounted as another moan escaped from the night. Still not able to see anyone, Anna decided it was time to get out out of there. She turned on her heel, but before she could take her first step someone grabbed her arm. She screamed and whirled around.

Horror filled her as she saw a decaying corpse in rotted clothing standing before her. She screamed again and pulled away from the horrifying site. She turned to run, only to crash into another one, a female corpse this time. Still it was no less grotesque than the other. Two more came out of the shadows and there were four of them surrounding her.

Anna kept turning in a circle, looking for anyway to escape the horrors that stood all around her. They were closing in and she knew she couldn't just stand there. Anna swallowed the fear that crept through her and ran directly towards the woman. She was easy enough to push over, but two more jumped on her back, knocking her to the ground.

Anna screamed, arms flailing, body pushing, trying to get away from them, but they had hold of her. Pain seared through her arm as one of the corpses sliced it open. It was only then that she looked down and saw that they had clawed hands. She opened her mouth to scream again, but before a sound came out, a clawed hand came across her face.

Sam stared across the table at Dean. His brothers gaze was off somewhere in the distance. Sam knew it wasn't the old bate shop across the street or any of the old crap cars in the parking lot. He knew Dean was in his own little world, thinking about the things that had happened in the last several months.

Between leaving Dorian behind and Sam putting a gun to Dean's head, well Sam couldn't blame him. He had a lot on his mind as well and he wasn't the one who had almost been killed by his own brother. No, he was the one who had almost _killed_ his own brother.

It had been horrible. Sam was stuck in his body with no way to control it. He kept telling himself not to say the hateful and hurtful things was screaming at Dean, but his brain and his mouth didn't seem to have the correct messages flowing back and forth. All that came out was the hatred and the rage Sam had felt for so many months.

Sam didn't hate his brother. Yes, he had issues with Dean, but he could never hate him. He had meant it when he told Dean that he would die for him, but never in a million years did Sam think he would try to kill him.

Every night in his dreams, Sam saw Dean lying on the dilapidated floor of the old asylum and he stood above him, gun in hand, ready to pull the trigger. His brain and hand messages hadn't worked to well that night either and he was grateful Dean had unloaded the gun in real life, because in his dreams, Sam always woke right after Dean's blood started pooling around Sam's feet.

Dean hadn't wanted to talk then and Sam knew he didn't want to talk about it now. Yet Sam felt there was something that needed to be said. Something that was hanging in between them putting stress on their already dysfunctional relationship. Sam only had a few people left in his life and of all of them his brother was the most important.

"Dean?" His brothers head turned to look at him. Eyes blank as usual. "What are we going to do about dad?" He wasn't going to try and make Dean talk about the asylum, especially not in a diner full of people that would over hear, but he knew another thing on Dean's mind was their father. "That one phone call is all we got from him and he still won't tell us where he is."

"Dad will contact us when he's ready," Dean said, shifting in his booth. The truth was he was worried about his dad. They had received that phone call from him, or rather Sam had. Dean had been in such a deep sleep that he hadn't heard the phone ring. All their father had told Sam was that he was fine and they'd be together again soon.

It put the search for their dad on hold, but that didn't mean they got to sit around, watch TV, and drink beer all day. There were still bad things out there. Bad, evil things that were hurting innocent people and Dean was damned if he'd stand by and just let it happen. "Until then, we just do what we do best." He grinned. "Kill or rekill nastified, evil things."

Sam rolled his eyes and a waitress came over and placed a plate of food in front of Dean and Sam. Sam watched as she batted her eyelashes at his brother, and asked, mainly Dean, if he needed anything else. Dean claimed he was fine and the waitress walked over to some of her friends, giggling and sparing glances their way.

Sam knew another thing that was wrong with his brother. He missed Dorian. It had been two months since they left her with Missouri and Sam missed her too, but Dean hadn't so much as flirted with another woman since they had left her behind. That was very un-Dean like. Sam picked at his eggs and sighed. "Makes you miss Dorian's food doesn't it?"

Dean smirked. He missed a lot more than just her food. He missed her body next to his at night, and the way she always found a way to make him smile. Usually it was because she was a klutz, but on purpose or not she made him smile.

In their line of work there was so much darkness and loneliness. Dean had accepted that as part of his life. He knew in the long run it would be him and Sammy, until Dorian fell into his lap. At first he was skeptical, but the more he came to know her, the more he had learned to care for her.

That was part of the reason he had left her at Missouri's. Dean knew he couldn't afford to care about anyone that much. His brother and his father were the only exceptions. He couldn't allow himself to care for anyone else, because everyone else always died.

Dean thought that putting miles between them would kill the feelings he felt, but it didn't seem to be working. Dean shook his head. "This isn't so bad. We've been living off it for years."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't make it good." He pushed his bacon with his fork. "I'm pretty sure that my bacon just oinked."

Dean laughed. "So have you talked to Dorian?" He wasn't avoiding her, in fact it was just the opposite. Every time they called Dorian was quick to get off the phone. They usually wound up talking to Missouri more than Dorian.

Sam shook his head. "No, not since we last talked to Missouri. When I do talk to her, she just..." He paused figuring how to describe it. "She doesn't sound like her normal self."

"Well at least she talks to you," Dean snapped. "I haven't talked to her in almost a month." He couldn't understand it. When they had parted things seemed a little tense, but for the most part, okay between them. Now on the off chance that Sam got to talk to Dorian, he would try to hand the phone off to Dean, but Dorian would quickly make an excuse and hang up.

Sam sighed. "I think she's still hurt that we left her behind. We both know it was the right thing to do, but Dorian..." He shrugged. "I don't think she believes we're coming back for her."

"Yeah well she doesn't have much reason to believe in people," He sighed. After her childhood he couldn't blame her for the way she was feeling, but he thought he'd made it clear to her that they'd be back. Apparently he'd been wrong.

One of the waitresses turned up the volume on the TV, causing Dean and Sam to turn around and look at the broadcast.

"The body of Anna Monroe was found this morning in Lakemont Cemetery," A petite female news anchor began saying. "Her body was found mauled and mutilated, by what authorities say can only be some kind of large animal. There is still speculation as to what kind of animal could have caused such extensive damage. There are no animals large enough in or around the Marsten area that could have done this. Authorities are investigating." She shuffled her papers. "More at eleven."

Dean turned to Sam, grateful for the news anchor and her story. From the sounds of it her story could be right up their alley. "What do you think?"

Sam shrugged. "It could be something. It's worth checking out at least." He looked at his watch. "Marsten is only about a days drive."

Dean nodded and they called for the check. Neither of them had really touched their food, but then again they weren't sure it was food at all. They paid their tab, and the waitresses were sad to see them go, but they had a job to do.

Dean was grateful for the distraction. Once they were on a job he could keep his mind off Dorian. He could keep his mind off everything, and that included his father. They hadn't found him. Dean needed to find him. He needed to talk to his father, to see his father.

There were just so many things on Dean's mind right now and he couldn't stand it. His brother was the braniac who always worried over things and was thinking about things. Dean normally just sat back and went with the flow. He was getting really annoyed with himself and he planned on returning to his old self. Starting now.

TBC

Please Review


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Wow thanks so much for the reviews. For those of you are anxious for Dorian to be back, don't worry she will be. Just not in this story. Anyways, here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 2

Dean and Sam walked up to Anna Barone's house. It was a three story Victorian style with a wrap around porch painted white with green trim. They did a little research and found out that she was survived by her husband, Daniel. Anna was in her forty's but the couple had no children, at least not that they could find. Anna's funeral had been earlier today, so they figured that the house would be packed with guests and that two more faces, while questioned, wouldn't cause a major disturbance.

"I still don't see why we had to dress up," Dean grumbled. "We've been to plenty of these things just dressed in our regular clothes." They were both wearing somewhat dress outfits. Both had on black slacks, but Dean wore a green button down shirt, while Sam's was blue. Sam had convinced his brother they needed to look the part if they were going to a place of mourning. After much grumbling and arguing, Dean had finally conceded.

"Because," Sam said, knocking on the door. "We've gotten thrown out of half of those places because we were in jeans and t-shirt. I figure maybe this way, people will think we actually belong." He smirked at the way Dean was shifting in his clothes. Watching his brother squirm once in a while always gave Sam a kick.

"Yeah, we'll belong while we're uncomfortable," Dean snapped. He hated getting dressed up. It reminded him too much of his moms funeral. He was in a little mini suit, with his semi long hair, leaning against his father. When he had become old enough he cut his hair and never let it grow long again. Yet another way he tried to sever his ties with the past.

A man in his mid forties, with sandy blond hair, and bloodshot brown eyes answered the door. He was wearing a black suit, and he had a tissue clenched in his left hand. He looked them over once and then asked, "Can I help you?"

Sam smiled. "I'm Sam Landry and this is my brother Dean. Are you Daniel Barone?"

He sniffled and crossed his arm over his chest. "Yes."

"It's nice to finally meet the face behind the name," Dean said, trying to mix pleasure and mourning. "Our mom was a friend of Anna's. She's sick and couldn't be here, so she asked us to come in her place." They were hoping that his grief would over ride any detailed questions.

Daniel's face softened. "Please, come in." He stood aside and let them enter. "It's nice that you came out for this. Anna was such a wonderful woman. What did you say your mothers name was again?"

"Sandy," Sam said quickly. They had worked out a few things on the way over to the Barone's. "Anna and mom went to highschool together."

Daniel put a small smile on his face. "Anna always said she had a lot of friends she missed from high school. I guess Anna was one of them."

"What exactly happened?" Dean asked as they walked through the hallway and into the living room. There were at least three dozen people sitting and standing around the small area. He was trying to get off the topic of their 'mother' and onto business. "All we heard was it was an animal attack."

Daniel sighed and gestured towards the the table. They all sat down. "Anna was visiting Justin's grave."

"Justin?" Sam asked. He hated to make this guy relive the tale especially so soon after his wife's death, but in order to get to the bottom of this they needed to fill in all the blanks.

"Justin Prescott," He said uneasily. "Anna was in a car accident a few days ago. She was driving home from work and Justin just came out of nowhere. They collided and Anna walked away with a few scrapes and bruises, but Justin wasn't wearing a seatbelt. He flew through his windshield and died on impact with the street."

"Wow, I'm sorry to hear that," Dean said in a sorrowful voice. Idea's started bubbling in the back of his mind as to what this could be and he exchanged a knowing glance with Sam.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "That must have been rough on her."

Daniel nodded. "Rough isn't the word. Even though the accident wasn't her fault she blamed herself. She wouldn't go to his funeral, but she said she had to go to his grave. I offered to go with her, but she said it was something she had to do alone." Fresh tears spilled down his face. "I knew I should have went with her. They found her body mauled, shred into pieces." He was sobbing now. "Whatever attacked her..." He sucked in his breath.

"Whatever attacked her what?" Dean prompted. He ignored the pain that was flowing from this guy. He blocked out the tears. If this was something supernatural they needed to know everything so they could kill it and it wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else ever again.

"It ate parts of her," Daniel choked out. "It tore her into so many shredded pieces. The only reason they knew it was her, was because the purse was still near the body. It didn't drag her, her just attacked her, right there in front of Justin's grave and then left her to the vultures when it was done." His hands were shaking.

"Are you all right?" Sam asked, seeing Daniel's flustered appearance. He knew that feeling. He'd felt it every day since Jessica died. He'd been there, done that, and had the nightmares to prove it. Even though the pain wasn't as raw as it once had been, it was still there and Sam felt some of those feelings dredge up as he looked over at Daniel. He saw a mirror of the man he had been and in some ways still was since Jess had died.

Only he knew Daniel didn't have the same sense of guilt that Sam did. He might feel bad that he didn't go with her to the graveyard, but he couldn't have known what was going to happen. Sam, on the other hand, knew what was going to happen to Jessica. He just needed to be normal so damn much that he ignored the warning signs.

Daniel nodded. "It just makes me so angry. She was all I had in the world." He sighed and someone called to him. He nodded towards them and then looked back at the two men in front of him. "Please, stay for as long as you like. There's plenty of food." He stood up. "I have to see to my other guests."

"Thanks," Sam said. Daniel smiled half heartedly and walked away. "Okay, let's get out of here."

"Hold on," Dean said putting a hand on Sam's chest to stop him from jumping up. "We're here, we've got a while before dark, so we might as well stay and eat." There was no point in wasting perfectly good hustled money on food when they could get it for free. He smiled at Sam's frustrated look and got up to grab a plate.

Sam sighed. His brother could be infuriating, but he had to admit he was hungry. If he didn't eat now Dean would only gripe later about having to pay for food when Sam could have gotten even better food for free. With a roll of his eyes Sam stood up and followed his brother to the buffet.

After their bellies were full they exchanged a few words of condolences with Daniel and then quickly left. They didn't want Daniel coming around with any new questions. Like oh say, any stories of Anna and 'Sandy'. Charlie had been too buried in his own grief, only talking when talked to and even then his voice was in a robotic tone. The only time they had seen him show any emotion was when he was telling them about Anna's death.

"You okay?" Dean asked as they walked to the car. He had noticed that while they were eating Sam had that same guilt ridden look on his face. Personally Dean was getting sick of his brother blaming himself for Jessica's death. It hadn't been his fault. It was that things fault, just like it was that things fault that their mother was dead and they were leading this life.

Sam stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" It was Sam's turn to not be in the sharing and caring kind of mood. He knew that was usually Dean's MO, but when it came to Jessica, Sam just preferred to keep things to himself.

"You just looked kind of out of it in there," Dean said. "Like someone stole your favorite toy and wouldn't give it back."

Sam smirked. "Nah, I'm fine. So you think we're dealing with an angry spirit?" They got into the car. His mind was dwelling on Jessica way to much and he was anxious to move it to a new subject.

Dean started the car and leaned back into his seat. He sighed and ran hand through his hair. He wouldn't force his brother to talk about it, but that didn't mean it didn't piss Dean off. "I've never heard of an angry spirit mauling and eating part of a body. It sound more like a wolf got her."

They looked at each other and chorused, "Werewolf."

"But there wasn't a full moon last night," Sam said, frowning slightly.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean anything. Werewolves can change at will if they're good enough," Dean reminded him. "The full moon just gives them that extra power."

"All right," Sam said. "So now we need to go and check out the graveyard. See if there's any tracks or any other signs of a werewolf."

Dean nodded and they put he put the car into gear. "Let's go."

Please Review


	3. Chapter 3

AN: I know the chaps are coming a little slow, but keep in mind that it is the holiday season, so A LOT is going on. Anyways here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy

Chapter 3

Dean and Sam walked through the graveyard, looking for Justin Prescott's tombstone. It was a fairly large cemetery, complete with intricate angel statues and other Gothic artwork. It fit the motif of this place. Everything was old, even the small town square type setting seemed to be from the early fifties rather than the new millennium they were all living in now.

The found Justin's grave and went over to it. Dean and Sam both had a pistol complete with the werewolf killing silver bullets under their jackets. They doubted that it would come out during the day, but they weren't taking any chances. Neither of them were planning on becoming furry once or more a month.

Dean kneeled beside the freshly disturbed earth. He could see where a woman with a size seven shoe had fought against something, but that something was not identifiable because there were no other prints. "The only prints here are Anna's. There's no sign of any wolves or anything else."

Sam sighed. "I don't see anything either, coming to or going away from the grave." He walked a few feet away just to make sure, but still there was nothing. "Maybe it covered it's tracks."

Dean stood up and shook his head. "No, werewolves don't have a conscious mind when they're like that. All they know is food and prey. They don't think about covering their tracks or if they left behind evidence."

He had dealt with a werewolf on more than one occasion with his father. They tended to be nice people, but not so nice when in wolf form. Dean hated werewolves. He had almost been scratched by one, but someone else had taken the blow for him. Someone he hadn't thought about in a long time and didn't want to think about now.

"So then maybe it's not a werewolf," Sam said. "Maybe we are dealing with a seriously pissed off spirit." Spirit's didn't leave footprints. They could manifest, take form, hurt or kill you, yet they didn't leave footprints. Sam never did figure that one out.

"Could be," Dean agreed. "Maybe it wasn't an accident, or maybe it was, but maybe Anna was in the wrong and not Justin."

"Maybe," Sam said, frowning slightly. It didn't feel right. They were missing something, he just wasn't sure exactly what it was.

"Can I help you," A woman's voice called out.

The two brothers whirled around and found themselves face to face with a woman in her mid forties. She had raven hair and crystalline blue eyes that were full of pain and anger. She was wearing all black and had a batch of mixed flowers in her hands.

"Uh, I'm Dean, this is Sam," He quickly said. "We're with the national wildlife association. We're here investigating the death that occurred here. Who are you?"

"Emily Prescott," She said waking past them to her sons grave. She kneeled down and placed a fresh batch of flowers on his grave. "I'm Justin's mother."

"We were sorry to hear about your son," Sam said, taking a step back. He didn't want her to feel like they were crowding her. He knew that her presence put the investigation on hold, at least this aspect of it. They could still do research, but traipsing around the graveyard was no longer an option.

Emily brushed a few leaves off the top of the headstone and sighed. "So was I. I also felt sorry for that poor woman who hit him."

Dean tilted his head in confusion. If someone had killed Sammy he wouldn't feel sorry for them. He'd do everything he could to get revenge, accident or not. "Why did you feel sorry for her?"

Emily looked up at him, no anger was left in her gaze, only heartbreak and sorrow. "She didn't mean to kill my son." Tears began to flow down her cheeks. "In all honesty my son was at fault and he wasn't wearing his seatbelt." She stood up and stepped back, gazing at her sons grave while speaking to them. "At first I was angry. I wanted to blame Anna, and then myself. Then I realized that no amount of guilt was going to bring my son back, and he wouldn't want for me to live that way."

Dean glanced over at his brother, hoping he was listening good and hard to what she had to say. He hadn't known Jess for all of two minutes before she died, but for his brother to love her, well then she must have been someone special. She wouldn't have wanted Sam to live in constant guilt.

Emily sighed and finally brought her gaze to them. "Before Anna died I knew this was hurting her. I had invited her to the funeral, but she refused, saying she didn't think it was right. She wanted to pay her respects her own way and she was killed because of it." Emily wiped away the tears and shook her head. "Two senseless deaths." She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go into a whole speech."

Dean smiled and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Besides it sounds like you know what you're talking about." He glanced over at Sam, who in turn glared at him.

"Do you have any idea what could have killed that poor woman?" Emily asked. She crossed her arms over her chest. She kept glancing back at the grave every few seconds.

"We're working on that," Sam said, in a rough voice. Emily's words were still ringing in his head. He had to let go of his guilt, he knew that. Jess wouldn't want this for him, but in a way letting go of his guilt, meant letting go of Jess, and he wasn't sure he was ready to do that.

They decided to let Emily mourn her son in peace. They gave their condolences and said their goodbyes and drove back to the motel, stopping at a drive thru for some food on the way.

"All right," Dean said, sitting down at the table. "We're not dealing with a werewolf."

"And it's definitely not an angry spirit," Sam conceded sitting across from him and pulling his food out of the bag. "I mean even Emily said that Justin was at fault for the accident, so there was no wrong doing."

Dean nodded and took the burger that Sam held out to him. "Okay, so we need to find out if there's been any other problems in this graveyard in the past." He took a bite of his food.

Sam pulled the laptop out of his bag and started it up. While he waited he pulled out some fries and started dipping them in mustard.

Dean grimaced. "Dude, that is so nasty."

Sam smirked. "What?"

"Ketchup is meant to go on fries, not mustard." Dean piled more ketchup on his own fries and downed them just for effect.

Sam shook his head and pulled up the local paper. He went through the headlines on the side bar, day by day, looking for any thing that had to do with the cemetery.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean staring off into space, barely chewing his food. Sam sighed. "Call her."

Dean blinked and came out of his thoughts. "Call who?"

"Dorian. I know that's who your thinking about," Sam said.

Dean smirked. It wasn't Dorian he was thinking about. It was the asylum. It was how Sam had put a gun to his face and actually pulled the trigger. Dean knew it wasn't really Sammy. Well in a way it was. Dean knew that Sam was angry, but the good old doc had only made it worse.

Of course Dean wasn't going to let Sam know this. He shook his head. "Nah, she's probably doing something witchy with Missouri. I don't want to screw up her concentration."

"I don't think Dorian would mind a break," Sam said, glancing over at Dean. "Missouri said she had been getting frustrated a lot lately."

Dean shrugged and took a sip of his drink. "She doesn't want to talk to me, Sam. I don't know why, but she doesn't."

"It doesn't help that you haven't called her since she started avoiding our calls," Sam said, clicking on a link. His brother could be stubborn as hell. Then again, so could Dorian. Sam had tried calling her a couple of times, but Missouri always answered and Dorian was usually unavailable.

"Find anything," Dean asked, signifying that the conversation was over. He wasn't in the mood for this. He was tired, especially now that he was full, and all he wanted to do was figure out what this was, crash for a couple of hours until dark, and then kill the evil bastard.

"Yeah," Sam said, knowing his brother wasn't going to talk about it anymore. "Apparently Lakemont Cemetery has been having a lot of recent grave robbings. Freshly buried corpses were dug up and torn apart. Generally pieces of the corpses were cut off by some jagged knife. They never recovered all of the body parts and they have no suspects."

"How many grave robbings?" Dean asked, a thought settling into his mind. If he was right, than what had possibly caused the graveyard mauling would be the least of their worries.

"Uh, about six in the last month," Sam replied. "Why?"

Dean leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Ghouls."

Sam clenched his jaw. As soon as Dean said it Sam knew his brother was right. "That means that Anna was killed by at least four of them. Ghouls are cowards, they attack in packs. They run if it's only one on one."

Dean nodded. "They also usually go for freshly buried corpses, which would explain the body snatching and why they haven't found any suspects. No one knows where they come from exactly. There are rumors of them being a demons lackie, cleaning up after him, but there have been incidents of ghouls attacking with no demons being around."

"Yeah, but there have also been incidents with demons," Sam said. "So we may or may not be dealing with a demon as well."

"Well what we do know is that Anna was in the wrong place at the wrong time," He replied. "The ghouls were probably going after Justin's corpse and Anna happened to be in the mine field."

"The woman was just trying to make peace," Sam said sullenly. "And instead she wound up getting killed for it."

Dean yawned. He was exhausted. They hadn't slept in a while. "Yeah, well we'll head out to the cemetery tonight and handle the flesh eaters, but in the meantime I say we get some sleep."

"Well what if there is a demon lurking," Sam asked, shutting down his laptop. "How do we figure that out?"

"Well in any cases that ghouls are working for a higher demon, usually when the ghouls are attacked the demon will come to protect it's little clean up crew."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "It just manifests right then and there?"

Dean shrugged. "Demons can manifest, but their favorite thing to do is possess. So if a demon's got control of someone they'll show up at the graveyard."

"So we better bring supplies for an exorcism then," Sam said, mentally check listing all of the things they would need tonight.

"Sounds good," Dean got up and walked over to his bed. "I'm crashing for a couple of hours. You should do the same. If we do have to perform an exorcism tonight we're going to need our strength."

"_Do it!" Dean yelled. _

_Sam could see the pain in his brothers eyes, but he didn't care. The rage inside of him was in control. At least it was in control of his motor skills and the spews that were coming out of his mouth. As much as he wanted to resist, as much as that voice in the back of his mind screamed, "NO DON'T! HE'S YOUR BROTHER!" He felt he had no choice, but to do it. If he killed Dean all the anger would go away._

_After all if it hadn't been for Dean and his father, Sam would have had a normal childhood. He would have been able to play soccer and Jess, Jess would still be alive. It was their fault, not his. They pulled him into this life and now he was stuck with it and no one was safe around him. It was their fault._

"_NO!" The voice screamed in the back of his head. "He's your brother. If it wasn't for him and your father you'd be dead several times over. They love you, you love them."_

_He kept trying to talk himself out of it, but the anger overrode all rational thought that was left in his mind._

"_Do it," Dean yelled again._

_Dean had barely finished speaking when Sam pulled the trigger. There was a loud boom and then blood. There was so much blood and things that were thicker that didn't belong outside of the human skull. Things that should have been intact and whole inside his brothers head were now laying in piles of a thick ooze on the ground around Sam's feet._

Dean grumbled and rolled out of bed. He heard Sam shouting in his sleep, again. Normally he let Sam have his dreams, but ever since the incident at Roosevelt Asylum they seemed to be getting worse. Severely worse, like Sam slashing around in bed, waking up soaked in sweat worse.

He moved over to the other bed, ducking as Sam's arm swung out wildy. He growled in frustration and shook his brothers shoulder. "Sam, wake up." When nothing happened he shook him harder. "SAM!"

Sam's eyes flew open and he shot up so fast he practically collided heads with Dean. "Whoa, take it easy little brother." He kept his hands firm on Sam's shoulders.

"D..Dean?" Sam asked, breathing heavy. He felt his brothers reassuring hands on his shoulders. It let Sam know he was alive. Sam hadn't killed him. He was still alive. The gun hadn't been loaded.

"Yeah, who were you expecting?" He asked. "Dad?" Dean smirked, but it quickly faded when he saw the fear in Sam's eyes. "That bad?"

Sam pulled back from his brother and leaned up against the head board. He knew that was a prompt to tell Dean about his dream, but he also knew better. "Trust me you don't want to talk about it."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "It must have been bad. It was your dream, pal. You're the one who has to talk about it."

Sam sighed and looked away from Dean's penetrating gaze. "It uh..." A pained look passed across his face. "It uh, was about what happened in the asylum."

Dean nodded in understanding. They had never talked about. In truth Dean didn't ever want to talk about it. That was just the way he was. Things happened them, he dealt with it and moved on. There was no need for feelings and hugs. That only brought other emotions out that just didn't need to be there.

He sighed internally. This was Sammy. This was his little brother and he'd had nothing but nightmares since then. Damn old Doc couldn't make it so that his patients forgot, no he had to let them keep the memories so it would haunt them for the rest of their damn lives. See there were valid reasons Dean didn't go to doctors. Ellicott was a prime example.

Dean cringed at the fact that they were actually about to talk about. "What happened, Sammy?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Are you..."

"Just tell me, Sam," Dean snapped. "Before I change my mind."

Sam nodded, knowing it was now or never and he told him. He told Dean every grueling detail and watched for any change in his brothers face. Dean, of course, didn't show any. He acted as though none of this affected him.

Dean sighed heavily when he finished. "Sam, that wasn't you. It was all Endicott. You have nothing to feel guilty for."

"But I remember it," Sam said, throwing his hands in frustration. "I mean what if that shotgun had real shells instead of salt rock? What if you had accidentally left one bullet in the gun? What if..."

"Sam, you can ask yourself what if until the day you die. What if doesn't matter. What matters is that we're both fine. Endicott doesn't have a hold on you anymore. You're fine. I'm fine, we're all fine. Okay?" Sam nodded, still not quite meeting Dean's gaze. "I mean it Sam. I don't blame you for what happened. If Endicott hadn't messed with your head it wouldn't have happened. It wasn't your fault."

"I know," Sam said. "But all those things I said..."

"Meant nothing," Dean finished. He was getting sick of this. "It was just Endicott's psycho crazy therapy. I know you've got issues with me, Sam, but I also know you'd never intentionally hurt me." Dean believed that with his heart. Yeah Sam was angry, hell so was Dean. They didn't have the best life in the world, but he also knew that Sam would be there for him no matter what.

"I'm sorry," Sam said quietly. He had said it before. He'd say it again, because no matter how many times he apologized it didn't make what happened okay. Sam may not have been in control, but it was still his body, his hand that pulled the trigger.

"Yeah, you are," Dean said with a smile. "But that has nothing to do with what happened at Roosevelt Asylum." He playfully punched his brother in the shoulder and Sam cracked a smile. "Okay?"

Sam nodded, still smiling. "Okay."

Dean went back to his own bed. "Good now get some sleep and try not to dream, cause when you dream, it keeps me awake."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'll try."

Dean plopped on his stomach. "Good."

Please Review


	4. Chapter 4

AN: I haven't been getting very many reviews is the story still going okay? Because you know as the readers it's your duty to tell me if it's starting to suck lol. Anyways here's the next chapter. Let me know what you think.

Chapter 4

Sam slept the next two hours away more in twilight than a deep sleep. He heard what Dean told him. He knew that Dean meant what he said and Sam was grateful he listened, but he was still scared of the dreams. Scared that he would see Dean's blood pooling at his feet after he pulled the trigger.

Now, it was dark and it was time to go to the graveyard and take care of the ghouls. Sam doubled checked the bag making sure he had enough lighter fluid and matches. The only way to kill a ghoul is to burn them. "You know it's going to be kind of difficult holding them down, dousing them in gas, and lighting them up."

Dean smirked. "Yeah, as much as we work with fire maybe we should invest in a flame thrower."

"No way," Sam said. His cell phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket. "There's not a chance in hell I'm going to let you walk around with a flame thrower. You're already kill happy as it is." He flipped open his phone. "Hello?"

"Hey Sam," Missouri's voice floated into his ear.

"Hey Missouri," He replied glancing over at Dean. "How's everything going."

Missouri sighed. "Not as well as I'd like it."

"Why?" Sam asked sitting on the edge of the bed. "Is something wrong?"

Dean sat on the bed across from him. He didn't like the grim look on Sam's face or the question that was just asked. He was still leery about Dorian being in Lawrence after everything that had happened to him and Sam there. He knew it wasn't the place, but sometimes it felt like Lawrence was the most cursed place on Earth.

"I don't know," She replied. "A few weeks ago I would have said she just missed you boys, but now it's like something's changed."

"Well can't you just read her mind?" Sam asked. Considering she figured out all his problems in the first two minutes they met Sam didn't understand why it was so difficult for Missouri to figure out what was wrong with Dorian.

"Not anymore. I taught Dorian how to shield her self from any sort of paranormal attack. That includes shielding herself from people who could pry into her mind."

Sam sighed. "Well what exactly is she doing?"

"It's not what she's doing," Missouri said. "It's what she's not. Dorian's tries to do what I tell her, but it's like she doesn't care anymore. Everything she does she does half heartedly. Somethings happened, or changed, or is wrong, but I just don't know what it is."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "Hold on a second." He covered the phone with his hand and told Dean what Missouri had said.

"Give me the phone," Dean said. Sam handed him the phone and he brought it to his ear. "Missouri?"

"Dean?"

"Yeah, is Dorian there now?" He asked. She had been sidestepping him every chance she got. Now she was acting different even to Missouri.

"Yes, she's upstairs," Missouri said. "She's in her room."

"Let me talk to her," Dean said adamantly. "And don't let her give you some excuse. Make her get on the phone."

Normally Missouri would have had some witty come back. She would have scolded Dean for not even saying please, but right now Dorian was the most important thing. "Hold on, I'll get her."

Dean pinched his nose in worry and frustration. Something was up with Dorian and he didn't need any of Sam's creepy feelings to tell him that.

"Hello?" Dorian's voice came over the phone. She sounded tired.

"Hey Dorian," He said cheerfully. "I haven't heard from you in a while. How ya doing?"

Dorian sighed. "I'm fine, Dean. What about you and Sam?"

"We're good," He replied. "In the middle of a case."

"Well then don't let me keep you," She said, quickly and Dean could tell she was trying to make a run for it.

"No, you're not keeping me," Dean said even quicker. "Sam's doing his braniac stuff on the computer, checking out some things." He grinned up at Sam who only rolled his eyes. "What's going on with you?"

"Oh you know," She replied. "Just working with Missouri."

Dean was tired of beating around the bush. "Dorian what's going on? We don't hear from you anymore, when I by chance do get to talk to you you're quick to get off the phone, and now whatever's wrong even Missouri notices it. What's going on? Talk to me."

There was silence on the other end of the phone. Dean only knew she was there because he could hear her breathing. "Dorian?"

"It's nothing, Dean," She said quietly. "I'm fine, really, but listen I gotta go."

"Dorian, don't hang up!"

"I'll call you in a day or two, I promise."

"Dorian wait!"

"Tell Sam I said hi."

"Dorian!"

"Bye, Dean."

He sighed in frustration when the dial tone came on the phone. He flipped the phone shut and threw it at Sam. Dorian was not making things easy on them. Dean knew something was wrong now and decided that maybe they needed to make a pit stop in Lawrence when this was over.

"I guess it didn't go so well," Sam said, replacing the phone into his pocket.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "No Sam, it went swell." He stood up. "Come on let's get to the cemetery."

"All right," Dean said once they were inside the cemetery. "Anna was buried here, but I don't think the ghouls would go after her. They already got a good taste."

Sam flashed the light over the list of recent obituaries. "There were only to other burials here today. Elizabeth Monroe and Gary Robins."

"Okay," Dean said looking around with his flashlight. The last thing he wanted was to get caught off guard. Of course the ghouls wouldn't attack them while they were together. They were going to have to split up if they planned on luring them out. "Well while the names are helpful we're still going to have to scour this place and find out where they're buried."

"Split up?" Sam asked, knowing his brother already had that in mind. He pulled a shotgun out of the bag and handed it to Dean. Then he pulled another one out for himself.

"Yell if they come after you," Dean said seriously. "They don't have super strength or paranormal powers, but being outnumbered four to one isn't great odds."

Dean worried about Sammy. He seemed to always take the brunt of the hurt when they were on a hunt. He hated to see his brother hurt or brainwashed for that matter. He quickly pushed that thought away.

Sam nodded. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah yeah," Dean mumbled. "Just call if they come after you."

Dean broke off from his brother and headed towards the north end of the cemetery. He had the flashlight in one hand and the shotgun in the other. He knew he'd have to drop the flashlight to shoot the gun or wind up with a kick back so hard his arm would fly out of the socket.

It was a cool night and Dean almost felt like he was in a horror movie. The only thing missing was the fog that rolled through the cemetery right before the zombies came out of their graves. He was glad they were dealing with ghouls and not zombies.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," Dean chorused, flashing his light around the dark labyrinth of tombstones. Angels were silhouetted in the shadows. Giant gargoyle statues were perched on top of mausoleum roofs towering over the cemetery like stone, winged guardians of the dead.

Dean eyed a freshly buried grave. "Jackpot." He walked over and kneeled beside the freshly disturbed earth. He swung his pack off his shoulder and started digging through it's contents. He pulled out the lighter fluid and matches.

It was going to be interesting trying to burn moving targets. Most of their burnings consisted of already dead, non animated corpses. Ghouls however were the corpses. Oh yeah, Dean was going to have fun.

A moan resounded behind him. Dean stayed where he was, but glanced over his shoulder. He didn't want to just throw up the shotgun because ghouls were cowards and if there was only one near him at the moment he didn't want to scare it off.

Another moan came through the darkness to the left of him. Okay there were two of them now. Dean wrapped a secure hand around the shotgun and stood up, keeping it close to his thigh. Two of them were coming towards him. He glanced over to his left and saw a third. They were trying to cover him from all angles which meant...He looked ahead of him as far as the darkness would allow. He could make out the shape of another figure coming towards him.

"Olly, olly oxen free," Dean said. "SAM!"

He brought up the shotgun and aimed it at the ghoul in front of him. Before the ghoul even hit the ground, Dean turned and shot the other. He turned to shoot the third, but wasn't fast enough. He tried to dodge the blow, but a clawed hand raked across his side, causing him to cry out and fall back.

Sam came up a moment later, slamming the ghoul over the head with his gun. He quickly aimed the gun and shot the fourth, knocking it to the ground. The two Dean had taken down had already getting to their feet.

"You okay?" Sam asked, keeping the shotgun aimed.

Dean pulled his shirt up and looked at his side. Blood was oozing down his skin and he couldn't see the full extent of the damage. He knew he was going to need stitches. It hurt like hell and it only pissed him off. He quickly replaced his shirt and grabbed the fluid and matches. "I'm fine."

He stood up, hissing in pain, and walked over to the ghoul Sam had hit with the gun. It looked up at him with decaying green eyes. Dean kicked it in the head to keep it down, inhaling sharply as pain tore through his side. He opened the lighter fluid and doused it all over the downed ghoul. He struck the match and threw it, listening in satisfaction as the ghoul started screeching in a high pitched cry as it burned.

Two shots rang out behind Dean and he whirled around. Sam had taken down two of the other ghouls. Dean wasted no time, going over and torching them. Both screamed like the first one as flames engulfed their already rotting corpses and Dean prayed that there was a special place in hell reserved for these evil things.

Sam had the gun aimed at the final ghoul, but just to be on the safe side he had his foot on his neck. Ghouls didn't need to breath, but it's still pretty damn hard to get up while someones crushing your throat. He looked over as Dean turned to face him and staggered on his feet. Worry crept through him. "You okay, man?"

"I'm fine," Dean growled, walking over to them. He squirted a little more fluid than was necessary onto the ghoul, but he was beyond pissed off. He was hurting, lightheaded, and grumpy. He struck a match, Sam moved his foot, and Dean threw the little burning stick onto the ghoul.

He clawed at them as it went up, shrieking and screaming in a high pitched, ear drum piercing wail. They both took a step back and watched the four ghouls lighting up the graveyard as mini bonfires.

Sam looked around the graveyard. The bonfire ghouls giving off enough light that he could look around them. There wasn't anything manifesting or any psychotic people running after them. "Well safe to say there were no demons involved." He looked over at his brother and his heart beat sped up a little.

Dean was swaying on his feet and with the additional light Sam could see that the left side of his brothers shirt was so saturated with blood that it was sticking to his skin. "Dean," He said worriedly running to his side.

Sam put a hand on Dean's shoulder to steady him. Dean's face was pale. He was losing too much blood. Dean didn't even have a witty retort about Sam worrying over him. "Come on, we got to get you to the hospital."

Dean didn't argue. He didn't have the energy. He didn't know how deep that thing had clawed him, but he knew he was bleeding profusely. Stars and black edges were dancing in front of his eyes. He heard Sam talking to him, but it didn't quite register. Neither did the fact that his feet were moving and that he was being led out of the graveyard by Sam.

"Come on, Dean," Sam said. His arm was soaked with blood from Dean's wounds, making it hard to support him. He had quickly thrown their stuff in the bag and slung it over their shoulder. The ghouls were still burning in the middle of the cemetery. They would go out on their own, but at this point they could light up the whole town and Sam wouldn't care. His first priority was getting Dean to the hospital.

Sam eased Dean into the passenger side of the car and dug into his brothers pocket for the keys. Once he obtained them he ran around and started the car. Heading for the nearest hospital.

"Dean, stay awake," He said speeding out of the cemetery.

"I'm good," Dean said groggily. He knew he wasn't. He was weak and becoming nauseated from blood loss. He couldn't let Sam know that though.

Sam kept glancing over at Dean while driving at a speed that was definitely not safe for anyone involved. As long as no one got in his way they'd all be fine. He glanced over again and saw Dean's head droop and his eyes close. "Dean!"

He reached over with one arm and started shaking his brother. "Dean wake up!"

Blue lights flashed in his rear view mirror and a siren sounded a moment later. Any other time Sam would be pissed, but this was a good thing. He quickly pulled the car over to the side of the road and threw the bag in the backseat. "Hold on, Dean." He rolled down the window and then quickly applied pressure to the wound.

A cop came over and shined a light in Sam's face. "Do you know..." He stopped when he saw the blood. "What the hell?"

"Please," Sam said, pressing on Dean. "My brother was attacked at the cemetery by some kind of animal!"

The cop immediately said something into his radio and then ran back to his car. He came back a moment later and opened the passenger door, holding onto Dean as he almost fell out. "An ambulance is on the way." He slapped on some rubber gloves and lifted Dean's shirt. The wounds were deep and bone from a few of his ribs glistened through the blood. His skin was shredded from the claws. "Jesus." He grabbed a bunch of gauze out of the kit and pressed it up against Dean's side.

"Hold on, Dean," Sam said worriedly, helping the cop to apply pressure. "Just please, hold on." His eyes glistened with unshed tears. Fear of losing his brother washed over him and he began shaking.

He internally scolded himself. Dean had been strong for him more times than he could count. Now it was his turn to be strong for Dean. He wouldn't let him down.

Sirens sounded in the distance and Sam said, "Hang on Dean, they're almost here."

Please Review!


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Hey all, WOW thank you for the reviews. Yes I am a comment whore lol. Anyways, here's the final chapter of the story, and don't worry Dorian will be back next story for all of you Dorian fanatics. I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading.

Chapter 5

Sam paced in the waiting room, dried blood caked to his arms and clothes. Other people waiting on news about their loved ones were giving him sidelong and sometimes frightened glances. People were used to seeing doctors covered in blood, but not people in the waiting room. He didn't care. He could have two extra heads right now and wouldn't care. Dean was still in with the doctors and he had no idea what was going on.

Twenty minutes ago Dean had been rolled in by a gurney at which point they told Sam he had to wait outside the trauma room doors. Sam hadn't wanted to wait, he wanted to be with his brother, but he knew the more time he spent arguing about it, the more time was being wasted that they could be saving Dean's life. The officer had taken Sam's statement and then left him alone to grieve.

Sam had already called his father, but of course he had gotten his voice mail. Sam left him a message trying to sound as calm as possible, but knew he wasn't succeeding. He knew his voice was strained, broken, and on the verge of hysterical. Even if by some chance his dad got the message tonight, he knew there was no way he'd get there before the danger passed.

He was debating whether or not to call Dorian. He knew she'd want to know, but at the same point he didn't want to worry her. Of course if Dean..NO, he wasn't going to think like that. Dean was going to be fine. He didn't want to worry Dorian over nothing.

"I'm looking for Sam Winchester," A voice said pulling Sam from his thoughts.

He whipped his head around and saw a man wearing green scrubs splattered with, what Sam could only assume, was Dean's blood. He immediately walked over to him. "I'm Sam Winchester."

"I'm Dr. Michaels. I'm handling your brothers case."

"How is he? Is he okay?" Sam asked quickly.

The doctor held up a hand to quiet him and then said, "You're brother is going to be fine. He lost a lot of blood, but none of his vital organs were damaged. It was just a series of deep lacerations that caused him to bleed profusely. We stitched him up, pumped some blood back into him, and now he's resting. He's going to be in some pain for a while, but other than that he'll make a full recovery." Dr. Michaels smiled reassuringly to him.

Sam sighed in relief and realized he was shaking. This night had completely shot his nerves to hell. "Can I see him?" He asked, his voice breaking.

"We're moving him to a room now. Once we have him settled I'll have a nurse come and get you," He replied. "He's going to be asleep for a while, but feel free to stay with him as long as you like."

Sam nodded. "Thank you so much." The doctor nodded and went back through the double doors.

Sam sagged into a chair and dropped his head in his hands. Relief flooding over his nerves causing him to shake. Dean was going to be okay. He was still drawing breath. His heart was still beating. Dean was going to live.

Sam felt fresh tears sliding down his cheeks, but he didn't care. It hadn't been so long ago that he had tried to kill Dean himself. He thanked God every day that he hadn't. That his brother had given him an empty pistol and socked him across the face.

If Sam had killed Dean he didn't know what he would have done next. Maybe he would have been like the cop and shot himself, or maybe it just would have been another name to add to the growing list of people dying and it being his fault.

Sam had a lot of making up to do where Dean was concerned. He knew that now more than ever. If Dean had died, Sam never would have been able to forgive himself for what had happened in the asylum. When Dean was well enough they had to talk about this, whether Dean wanted to or not.

"Sam Winchester?"

Sam sat up and quickly wiped away the tears. A nurse in purple scrubs was standing in front of him, smiling down at him reassuringly. "Yeah?"

"I'm here to take you to your brother."

Dean looked so...fragile amongst the beeping machines and IV lines. An oxygen tube stood out against the paleness of his face. He seemed so small, lying there pale and gray against the vast whiteness of the room.

Sam couldn't help but be scared. Dean didn't do pale. He didn't do small and he sure as hell didn't do fragile. Dean was strong. He always had been. Even on the rare occasion when he had gotten sick, he still did for himself. Yet there his brother was, lying in a bed of white sheets, standing out only because of his blue hospital gown.

Sam pulled the chair over next to Dean and sat down. Being careful of the IV, Sam took Dean's hand. It was cold to the touch.

Sam sucked in his breath, still trying to take in the appearance of his brother in his weakened state. "I'm so sorry, Dean." He sighed. "I came as soon as you called me but I wasn't fast enough. I have so much to apologize for." He felt a tear slip down his cheek.

Sam felt stupid apologizing to Dean while he was unconscious, but it was better than just sitting there, wallowing in the dark thoughts of his own mind. "Maybe in a way I did hate you and dad. I hated you because you have memories with mom. Genuine memories of being tucked in and kissed goodnight by her. Even if it was for only a few short years, you have those memories. All I'll ever have is the memory of ghost that apologized for something and I don't even know what it was for."

He laughed bitterly and looked down. "I hated you because you're dads golden boy. I hated that you always did everything just right and I always screwed everything up. I swear though, Dean I would never intentionally hurt you. I meant what I said in the car that day. I'd die for you." He sighed heavily. "I don't know why I'm confessing all of this. I don't want you to think I hate you. I wish I could take back everything I said and everything I did. I just wish we could have been an everyday family. I just wanted to be normal."

"Yeah, but where's the fun in normal?" Dean's rough voice asked.

Sam jerked his head up and looked directly into his brothers hazel eyes. "Dean!"

"Hey bro," He cracked a smile. He had heard most of what Sam said. Starting with 'I did hate you and dad'. Dean needed to hear what Sammy had to say. Sam's reason for hating him hadn't been what Dean expected, not at all. He had no idea that his brother felt that way about their mom.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked, genuine concern in his voice. His confessions were forgotten for now. They weren't important. What was important was that Dean was awake.

"I'll survive," If Sam wasn't going to ask, Dean wasn't going to tell. Even in his weakened state Dean wasn't in the mood for the heartwarming, emotional talk. It was bad enough Sam was concerned over him. "When can I get the hell out of here?"

Sam smirked. That would be Dean's first question. Not 'Am I going to be all right?' or 'How did I get here?' No it was 'When can I get out?' "We'll spring you tomorrow bro. Right now you need to get some rest."

"Man, I can rest in a hotel room, in real clothes, and a real bed. Not this crappy, uncomfortable thing I'm lying in right now." Dean hated hospitals. He hated doctors. He never stayed anywhere in the vicinity of either any longer than he had to.

"Humour me," Sam said. "Crash here until morning."

Dean smiled that cocky smile. "It is morning."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. Please Dean, just crash here for a while." Dean had lost a lot of blood. Sam wanted to give him time to regain his strength. Once Dean got color back in his cheeks Sam knew he would be fine, but right now he didn't look anything like his brother.

Dean was about to protest, but he was tired and honestly didn't feel like moving. Normally that wouldn't stop him. It was the concern in Sam's eyes that kept him in bed. He couldn't stand to have Sammy worry over him and if staying in the hospital for the night meant that it would ease his brothers mind, then so be it. "All right, Sammy, but as soon as the sun rises I'm getting out of here."

Sam's lips curved up in a smile. "All right, bro. You've got a deal. Now get some rest."

"Hey that's my line!"

"Not tonight it isn't," Sam drawled. "Grab some sleep, man. I'm not going anywhere."

Fin. Please Review!


End file.
